Musings Of A Mental Asylum
I stand tall but not proud Since people look at me with awe Those who cross my gates Considered insane Silence has no say here Only the dead can stay Long in silence But tell me Who might need the dead more Than the newly built coffins? I am not a coffin, but a cocoon from which new butterflies Find strength to fly out. I long for their groans, growls Cries and talks Full of life and thoughts Many here live, but considered dead Even by their kith and kin I never care for they are mine My walls ever longing for their voices Even the soft creepy whispers Can bounce on my walls To ease their solitary fears A heartbroken teenager with love more Precious than life Whose act of bravery Brought him to me Romeo can give up His life to applause Only on a man-built stage Not the ones set by God An employee who finds it Monotonous to follow Routine Who despised patterns Of no meaning Perhaps it might have been better Had the sane men Stayed the same in life Without changes Just like those patterns. An old man in grey hairs Just gave up on by his heirs With shattered memories Try to build the jigsaw of the past Beautiful moments when His heirs were young Only to pain him again That they were his kids once. Even little cute kids Come nowadays Who refused to wear glasses And constantly stare at iPad lessons They asked what, why, when And paused for an answer While in a rat race Curiosity never took them to Mars But for an occasional visit to me There once was a man Who liked to see and talk to men But none had time nor ears He claimed he saw God And heard Him talk Once within my comfort zone He could talk to real men And slowly God left him Tell me one moment Of civil war that broke out From an asylum ever. Real wars start (In)sane world out my walls Empathy, sympathy, compassion and care Takes humanity out on a tour Men who progressed Owned them in the past Now Reduced to caretakers alone It is still better for me to be an asylum For Far more insane are those who stay out
Thoughts
Thoughts like soldiers marching Over my neurons Thoughts of fear, worry and what not else Dancing inside my head Telling me to die off I try to laugh away and smile on To live, if not for me For those bugging thoughts Need a head to be alive If I just give up, They'd be wandering Down the streets To find a new abode, like soldiers marching Over my neurons Thoughts of fear, worry and what not else Dancing inside my head Telling me to die off I try to laugh away and smile on To live, if not for me For those bugging thoughts Need a head to be alive If I just give up, They'd be wandering Down the streets To find a new abode.
©2021 Sandhya
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The BeZine 
Thanks, Sandhya, for sharing these poems with us! Although they are somewhat disturbing, I like the questions asked, and that you bring these questions to the attention of the readers. I do believe that there is, indeed, a shared collective…and thoughts that escape any of us may be transmitted or picked up by another. With all of the chaos in the world today, it does sometimes seem as if the only sane people are those who have been hidden away, in a building of order and routines…interesting that it’s called an “asylum”, isn’t it? 🙂
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